


That Feeling

by missbeizy



Category: Glee RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Cunnilingus, F/M, Grinding, Hand Jobs, M/M, Poly!verse, Polyamory, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-15
Updated: 2015-03-15
Packaged: 2018-03-18 00:32:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3549368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbeizy/pseuds/missbeizy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Paramount lot carnival party!fic.  Drunk!Chris is silly, sexy puppy piles, Mia/Will and some Chris/Darren sappiness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	That Feeling

**Author's Note:**

> Warning for: recreational pot use.

The problem is, Chris finds the daiquiri stand while he's by himself for four seconds.  One incredibly strong daiquiri later he's moaning _strawberry pineapple, oh fuck me_ , to anyone who will listen, and out of that group two people request another for him, and by the time that he breaks away from them he's five daiquiris deep and drunk as a skunk.

He loves everyone in this fucking bar.  It becomes necessary to tell everyone in this fucking bar exactly that, but when words prove problematic he decides aggressive hugging and kissing will have to do, and then—there's a whole crowd of people to address, so he really needs to get to it.  He loses track of who and how, and then he spots a familiar blonde head by the Ferris wheel and his skin goes tight and hot and  _oh god he loves this bitch more than any other bitch ever_.

He launches himself at Mia and kisses her square on the mouth because she is the best best best ever and she is his technically, too, it  _counts_ , they are  _dating_ , and she is so badass and hot that he wants to die and tell her that except he should probably tell her that  _before_ he dies.

“I love you,” he says, and kisses her  _very very_  nicely.

“Your tongue is in my nostril,” she says.

“Oh.  Oh, crap.  I am wasted.”

“Yes.  Yes, you are.”

“Shit, okay, sorry.  I'm going to go somewhere else.  Kay.  Bye!”

She tries to stop him, but he's already off.  There are so many people and it is imperative that he hugs and kisses everyone in this world.  Carnivals are fucking awesome, and what if this is the last time that he sees some of these people?  The crew are his faves and they need to know that immediately.

And that's when things get fuzzy.  It's only after he's basically made out with both Kevin and Chord that he realizes he may have also actually cuddled Ian Brennan and Brad Falchuk and oh, is that  _Ryan Murphy_?  Oh my god, Ryan needs to know exactly how he changed Chris' entire life, this is so important, this is the most important conversation that he will have today—

But Darren.  Oh fuck, oh shit, Darren.  He has to find Darren.  Darren is his Blaine and it's over and they're never going to do that again and oh, god, he is surprised by how much he thinks he's going to miss that, he'd thought he was super super over this thing and then they had to get all sentimental and now there's a carnival and  _crap_ , where is Darren?

 

*

 

Mia finds Darren and Will making out in a stairwell behind the New York back lot.

“Ahem,” she says, dabbing at her face with a tissue. “Chris just made out with me.”

Darren pulls his mouth away from Will's collarbone to say, “That's fucking hot.”

“Okay, but when I say 'made out', I mean he shoved his tongue into my mouth and then started blubbering about having to find Ryan—or Darren?  I'm not sure.  There was a lot of slurring.”

“Oh, god,” Will says, removing his hand from Darren's ass. “Oh, shit, shit.”

“Yeah,” Mia drawls. “You may wanna go now.  I can't find him, but you seem to be able to locate that drunk pixie no matter how dense the crowd.”

 

*

 

Chris is three steps away from flinging his arms around Ryan when Will intercepts him.

“Hey, baby,” he sings, tugging Chris' hands. “Doing okay?”

“I have to find Darren,” Chris says, in that over-enunciated way that shows he's trying to act less drunk than he is, “I just have to—find Darren, okay?”

“He's with Mia, come on.”

Will is Chris'  _favorite person ever_.

Chris finishes the daiquiri in his hand, tosses the cup, and follows Will obediently away from the crowd and into privacy and oh, god, that is so much better and—

 _DARREN_ , finally.

Chris kind of has no control over it; the minute that he sees Darren, he starts crying.

“This sucks,” he declares, as Darren coos and puts a tissue to his face.  He doesn't notice that Darren is also containing gut-trembling laughter.

“Aw, darlin', what's wrong?” Darren asks.

“I didn't want to have feelings today,” Chris says, burrowing into Darren's arms. “Feelings suck.  I need another daiquiri.”

“Or not,” Will says.

Mia laughs, ducking behind Will.

“We made out,” Chris says.

“Uh, well.  Sort of.” She wraps her arms around Will from behind, who puts his arms over hers.

“I want to make out with  _all of you_ ,” Chris says, but kind of renders that impossible by nuzzling against Darren's chest. “I love you.”

“Oh my god,” Darren mouths, over Chris' head.

Will grins. “Come on.  I know a trailer that is most definitely abandoned right now.”

What follows is probably the closest thing to a foursome that this foursome has ever had—Chris can't keep track of who is where, only that they are all in one giant lump, there are at least three hands down his pants, he is definitely touching as much boob and vagina as he is penis, and he doesn't give a flying monkey fuck because everything feels amazing.  So few clothes come off, but he ends up coming in someone's hand and Mia is between them with Will and Darren's hands between her legs and Chris is using her boobs for pillows while squeezing them and tugging her nipples and he is so fucking happy.

There's come, like, everywhere.  He lies there and lets them clean him up, buzzing and warm and not quite so drunk anymore, so he decides he needs to make up for slobbering all over Mia and he puts his hands in her hair and kisses her without letting himself think too much about it, until she's humping his leg and moaning and _he is a sex god_.

And then Darren is tipping his face sideways and kissing him and Will is kissing Mia and then he's kissing Will and there's Mia again, her mouth tasting of some kind of fruity gum, and it's like drowning in people in the very best way possible, and then Mia comes rubbing on his leg and his jeans are wet.

“Fuck,” she hisses.

“I am a sex god,” he says, and they all crack up. “I meant to think that.  Not say it.  Damn it.”

“We should probably get back,” Darren says. “I think you're sober enough to go up on the roof—a bunch of us were gonna smoke.”

Chris remembers his original goal.  Darren is still wearing Blaine's hair and that is  _not fair_.

“I want to be with you,” he says, which is not something that he would ever say sober but who fucking cares  _Glee is over and everything is sad_. “I just want to be with  _you_ , okay?”

“We'll go back to one house tonight, I promise,” Darren says.

Chris pouts.  In the house of Colfer-Sherrod, a pout gets him more or less everything that he wants—but with Darren and Mia in the mix, it's not quite so across the board successful (Darren's pout often overrules his).  But he gives in and forgets his insistence more or less as soon as they're up there and high as kites and that fucking  _song_ is playing and instead of wanting to stab himself in the eardrum with an oyster fork he finds himself dancing like an idiot, Will at his side and Darren a few people down, even going so far as to rock the choreography in a drunken way.

It's fucking over, and he is having feelings.   _Fuck_.

He enjoys himself a lot more once the daiquiris leave his system, and they stay as late as they can, but Darren makes good on his promise—they all go back to his and Mia's place after, and by the time that they get there he's acceptably sober but still feeling clingy, holding Darren's hand all the way through to the living room, where Mia and Will curl up on one couch and he and Darren curl up on another.

He sits straddled over Darren's lap, playing with his hair which is coming loose in chunks from the gel that he'd never stopped to wash off, and Chris kind of loves it because it makes him nostalgic and kind of hates it because he wants to wrap those curls around his fingers and  _tug_.

“I'm being a crazy person,” he says, realizing that Darren has never seen him this unwound, this sappy.

“I love crazy person Chris.  He's sweet,” Darren says, all bright hazel eyes and puppy love expression and Chris wants to cry because they've been through so much together and they've had good times and bad times and here they are.  He's thrilled to have accomplished what he has, thrilled to have England on the horizon, but Darren has New York and Mia has New Orleans and it's going to be weird to not see them constantly.

So he kisses Darren the way that he usually kisses Will, slow and easy, arches his back beneath Darren's searching fingers and lets go of whatever defensiveness he normally carries.  Darren's eyes slide shut and he makes this little broken noise that spawns warmth in Chris' belly, and Chris pushes him against the back of the sofa and licks into his mouth.

He pulls away to breathe, savoring the waves of heat that are licking up and down his body, and  _fuck_ he's already so turned on, but this sofa isn't doing it for him.  He sits up, tries to say something along those lines, but Darren is covering his mouth and pushing two hands up the back of his shirt—cardigan long gone and his red flannel unbuttoned—and rolling him onto his back on the cushions.

Darren shrugs out of his t-shirt and Chris tugs at his jeans to get him back, humming with pleasure when Darren's body comes down on top of his.  Darren kisses under the collar of the flannel all the way from his ear to his neck.  But it's slower than it usually is, Darren's fingers lacing with his, pressing his hands above his head, Darren's stubble burning his chest.

“Fuck,” Chris breathes, bending upward.  Upside down, he sees Mia and Will in much the same position, Will sprawled out over her, her legs around his torso, her fingers wrapped around his ass.

It's almost too much, because he really wants them all—but the desire to be able to focus on Darren is greater, and he can't stop his brain from spinning.

“I want to be alone with you,” he says, almost gasps, when Darren begins suckling little hickeys down the length of his torso. “Can we...?”

“Hon?” Darren calls, and Mia lets out a muffled squeak when Will grinds against her.

“Sure, sure,” she says. “We'll all go to bed together later.”

Shirtless and panting, Darren drags Chris off to the bedroom.  Chris feels like he can breathe again, his focus narrowing, the flannel flapping around his upper arms like a cape.  He strips it off as Darren closes the door behind him, and there's a lovely quiet once that happens.  He smiles, almost laughs, and flings himself at Darren, walking them backwards and then pushing him onto the bed.  

“You love doing that.”

“I love shoving you around.”

“You and your growth spurts.”

“Jealous?” Chris asks, straddling Darren's hips.

“Hell no.  I am concentrated awesome.”

Chris bends over him, kisses him, as carefully as he had before. “Kiss me.”

Darren rolls them over, making Chris squeak, and then hauls them up so that Chris is in his lap, right up against the headboard.  He pushes his hands down the seat of Chris' pants and kisses his neck.

“I want to fuck you just like this,” Darren whispers, squeezing and stroking his ass. “Feel every inch of my dick in you, watch your face when you come.  Want to remember it.”

Chris whines, his eyes wide and unblinking.  The emotional roller coaster that he'd been riding earlier is still there, and when Darren says that last bit his chest hitches. “It's been—a crazy ride.”

Darren kisses him, cups his jaw on either side and rubs their cocks together. “It's not over, man.  It's just—different.  We're not leaving each other.”

“You and Mia are old pros with this setup.”

“No pressure,” Darren says, “remember?” They've talked about boundaries and expectations a dozen times in the last few months—but Chris is still unsure.  He's learned to take that in stride, but it doesn't make the feeling of potential disconnection any less jarring.

So they stop for a while.  Chris laces their hands and they stay that way, his ass parked on Darren's thighs as Darren's body and hair unwind beneath him, talking and joking.  Every now and then they hear a moan or a curse from the living room and they laugh, blushing hot and rutting their flagging erections together, but mostly it's just chatter and relaxation.  Chris' anxiety bleeds out slowly with every remembered in-joke and memory.

By the time that he begins to get antsy again, it's at least an hour later, the noises from the living room have stopped, and his legs are cramped.  He stands up briefly to take off his jeans and underwear, taking his time, glancing at Darren rubbing his cock through his jeans.  He smiles, slinks across the bed on all fours, and resumes the position.

“Do you still want to fuck me?” he asks, settling his naked ass on Darren's jeans.

Darren's throat bobs. “Oh, Jesus, fuck, is that even a question?”

Chris takes great pleasure in undoing Darren's jeans and peeling them and his boxers down over his hairy ass and thighs, exposing his thick cock.  He reaches over to fish the lubricant out of the bedside table, unrolls a strip of condoms, and asks, “For cleanup or...?”

“No,” Darren says, taking the lubricant and wrapping his free hand around Chris' tiny waist. “No, just skin.  Don't care about the mess.” He watches the shudder of pleasure that ripples across Chris' face when he sinks three dry fingers down the crack of his ass to rub him open. “Come here, baby.”

Chris normally hates the pet names, but tonight they're just making him hotter.  He whimpers at Darren's big, rough fingers between his cheeks, then hisses when cool lubricant joins them.  He strokes himself a few times, and then Darren, until they're both breathing heavily, and then he shifts forward and lets Darren's cock bob against the back of his thigh, then up and along his crack.

As he sinks down, Darren's hands glide up his naked back, and the burn is intense.  He doesn't breathe until he's all the way down, his fingernails digging into Darren's shoulders.  He reaches back with one hand, gripping the headboard of the bed and rolling forward.  Darren tugs his chin down and kisses him, not letting him retreat the way that he often does when they fuck face to face.

Chris lets it happen this way.  He keeps his eyes open the whole time, Darren's so blown with green that they almost don't look hazel in this light, Chris' face burning red as the bed squeaks beneath them.  His waist and back feel so small under Darren's hands and he loves that feeling of being enveloped and full.

They fuck for what feels like hours, grinding and thrusting in alternating waves until they're wound around each other and Chris is sweating and making huffy little high-pitched whines at every brush against his prostate.  It feels so fucking  _good_.

Darren's fingers wrap around his cock.

“Shit,” he gasps, stalling, “I'm gonna come in like four seconds if you do that right now.”

Darren holds him by his hips and thrusts up into him, forcing him to bend backwards. “More?”

“Oh, fuck.” Darren's temples and neck are soaked with sweat.  Chris licks a stripe up the side of his neck, pausing to nibble his earlobe before pushing five fingers into his messy hair. “I want you to come in my ass first.”

“Jesus, fuck, okay.” Chris doesn't often ask for that.

He picks a pace and then doubles it, one hand on the headboard and the other in Darren's hair, letting his torso do the work, until Darren is cursing and utterly trapped between his thick thighs.  He doesn't last long after Darren fills him up, maybe ten seconds of his own hand on himself before he's shooting all over Darren's belly and chest.

“Oh my god,” Darren breathes, slumping backwards. “H-holy—shit—gimme a second.”

Chris kisses his neck and collarbone while he comes down. “Mm.” He's still shivering, still feeling the orgasm as he writhes against Darren's body, letting their sweat and come mingle, his ass throbbing and leaking. “God, you're like the energizer bunny—so good.”

“Really,” Darren hums, practically oozing ego, and Chris laughs.

“Ugh, forget I said that—orgasm talking.”

“You fucking love me.”

Chris wrangles them flat on the bed and sprawls out along Darren's body, kissing into his hair. “Yeah.  I guess I do.” He doesn't even have to look at Darren to know that there's surprised contentment written all over his face.

 

*

 

In the living room, Will is between Mia's legs, kissing her thighs and labia and shrinking clit like he's simply entertaining himself.  He's lost track of the number of times she's come, how many times each go around has been interrupted by laughter or tears as they recall recent times or listen to Darren and Chris' sex noises.

“He wasn't always so much with the stamina,” Mia says, to the ceiling.

“Oh really?”

“He  _was_ always with the short refractory period and the eating pussy like a pro thing, though, so it balanced out.  But some time in the last like...two years, he just got really good at holding off.”

“Pleasant surprise?”

“Damned skippy,” she says, dragging her nails through his hair and across his scalp, which feels fucking amazing. “And then, well, I became extremely spoiled after I met you, so...”

Will drags the flat of his tongue up and over her clit, savoring her full-body shiver. “Mm.” He laughs. “Chris drunkenly confessed to wanting to learn how to eat you out in the car on the way home.”

She laughs, spreading her arms out, her hair a spill of brightness between them on the dark sofa. “Whenever he gets drunk he always wants to do things he'd  _never_ do sober.  I mean, most people do, but he gets like, super determined.  It's adorable.”

“I haven't seen him this sappy in a long time, I mean, about work,” Will says, gently pushing her thighs up so that he can get at her lower.  He really wants to just bury his mouth against her, get messy with her and smell her where she's sharp and tangy, and the slippery strip of skin between her pussy and her ass seems perfect for that.  He licks a path down to her asshole, and risks a kiss there.

“Oh my god, why are we talking,” she breathes, arching her back.

“I tried to make you come again and you slapped me.”

“That was five minutes ago.  I'm good.”

He rolls his thumb up and around her hooded clit while his tongue digs at her asshole and then curls up and inside her pussy, lapping as hard as he can.  When she squirms, he swivels his hand around and gently curls three of his fingers back inside of her loose hole.

“Fuck,” she says, “just—gently, fuck, so sensitive.”

He takes his time. “Gonna miss this.  Miss you both—so many months apart ahead of us.”

“We'll be okay, gorgeous,” she says, rocking into his touch. “Love each other enough and anything is fucking possible—oh, god, yeah, right there.”

He laughs. “I especially love you like this.” He wraps his mouth around her clit and hood and sucks, keeping the pressure indirect as she works herself around his fingers. “I wish they were with us, though—wonder if they won't mind us crashing soon?”

“Mm, soon,” she says, her belly heaving and her thighs shaking, “s-soon, we'll—oh, god, I bet Chris is all fucked open and Darren's a  _wreck_ , he can never keep it together when Chris is like he was tonight.”

“Shit,” Will breathes, working her faster, “fuck, they're probably both so messy.”

“Oh my god,” she moans, twitching and gushing fluid around his hand, “oh my  _god_.”

“We should go check,” he says, licking up her mess.

“Fuck, yes, right now.”

 

*

 

Chris is, at this point, not opposed to a puppy pile.  He's almost asleep, lying comfortably on Darren's chest, lazily playing with his hair, when Will spoons up behind him and Mia claims the other side of Darren's torso.  Chris laces his fingers with Mia's and smiles at her.

“Sorry about attacking your face,” he says.

She kisses his knuckles. “You're the dumbest drunk ever.  But it's cute.”

Will's mouth pecks across his sweaty shoulders. “Messy boy.”

He smiles. “So clean me up.  Or get me messier.”

“Sorry, babe,” Will says, “a certain lady was very greedy this evening.”

Mia bats her eyelashes. “We're even.  Seems like this one's dick has retreated for the time being, too.” She tweaks Darren's nipple.

Darren, almost asleep, twitches awake and rumbles, “Have you  _seen_ his ass?  It's demanding, son.”

Chris puffs up with pride, and Mia laughs. “Alright, alright.  Can't argue with that.”

They all relax and go quiet for a while, dozing off, and Chris lets the comfort of being touched by all of them trickle through him.  

He's not sure what changes most of the summer apart will bring, but he's happy to allow the whirlwind to guide them through—after all, that strategy has worked pretty well for them so far.


End file.
